CHAPTER 3: Fitting In

The next eight months were exhaustive and took its toll on Harley. She barely had any time to herself, between therapy sessions, trainings, and her least favorite of them all: speech therapy. It was hard enough to concentrate on being a whole different person, on top of all, she had to train herself on how to lose her favorite feature: her beloved Brooklyn accent. Not to mention what they did to her hair. It was back to her natural color, a dark browned tone with some curls forming on the bottom. She was barely unrecognizable, which was a good thing for her employees.

SHIELD found her a nice little apartment in Washington, with a good view of the city and pretty close to things she might need: groceries, pharmacy, clothes, and so and so. She hasn't really been on a real mission per say, most of what she was used to do were trainings, sparring and some gymnastics so she wouldn't lose the flexibility of her body. Fury was keeping a close eye on her, with double the effort, since he only had one. That though amused Harley whenever he was around. She got pretty close to Fury; once he made it clear she could trust him. It took a while, but she ended up believing in him. He hasn't given her any reason to think otherwise.

Harley was coming back from her speech therapy. Doctor Russell was very impressed with her progress since their first session. She now had a slightly convincing American accent, save for a few words. She unlocked her apartment door and walked in, dying for a hot shower and a long night of sleep. That desire had to be pushed away though, when she found her boss sitting in her couch, looking very amused at her surprised expression.

"You know, one of these days you're gonna be sorry for breaking into my apartment whenever you feel like it. I might have a gun on me." She teased.

"By the time you pull it out, I'll already be standing behind you with a pistol pointed at your head, Hogue." Fury said, staring at the paintings on the wall.

"We'll have to see about that. What do you want?" She asked with an annoyed tone, walking towards the couch. "Please tell me is something exciting, I think I might die of boredom anytime now. It's not like I got nothing else to do, between therapy and gym classes." She said with a sarcastic tone.

"Well, I would hold my breath if I were you, but there's a chance you'll find this exciting in your own way." Fury said handing her a case filled with documents.

"What's this? Something I need to study for my first official mission?" Harley was very curious about the content of that case. If Fury was there to deliver it in person, it had to be something important.

"That's you resume. Of course, we had to make a few adjustments. It had to be Claire Hogue's impressive resume, not Harleen Quinzel's criminal file." She hated that sarcastic tone Fury used when he referred to her past.

Harley started to read one of the documents, her eyes widening as she went through each line. "But I'm not a nurse! I'm a therapist… sort of." She started to think that was a sick joke.

"Well, you had some experience working at Arkham. You even conducted a few group therapy sessions until, well, that happened." Harley frowned. Fury simply continued. "I'm sure you'll know what to do. I set you up an interview tomorrow morning. Nothing too difficult. It's a very relaxing environment, especially for someone like you."

"How do you expect me to go back to work now? I though you said my therapist didn't think that was a good idea. And where is this job interview, anyway?" Harley was getting seriously irritated. That "he said she said" game wasn't very fun.

"If you actually think I didn't ask your therapist for advice, I'm seriously insulted. And stop yelling so much, woman. It's not like I'm putting you back in a mad house. I don't want to cause you a meltdown, not after all the progresses you've made." If she thought she could intimidate him by raising her voice, he would prove her wrong in a second. "The place is a nursing home. Somewhere you'll be able to work without stress, attending the necessities of elderly citizens. Can't get any better than that, don't you think?" Fury was clearly upset with her lack of appreciation.

Harley sighed, a bit ashamed. "Alright Nick, listen. I'm sorry that I'm sounding like an ungrateful bitch, but… It's not easy for me, okay? I had to give up everything I had, everything I was and now, suddenly, I'm in the obligation of helping people again, something I majorly screwed up in the few attempts I've made. I'm not saying I won't do it, just give me some time to let it sink in." Harley pleaded.

"You have until tomorrow, 9am. The name of the place and the address are in the case." Fury got up and started to make his way to the door.

"Hey, Nick." Harley stopped him. He barely turned his head to the side. "Thank you. I really appreciate all you're doing for me. I won't let you down."

Harley was sure she saw a small smile cross his lips, before he quickly left the apartment, leaving her with a huge pile of papers to study until the next morning. Well, it was sort of a mission, she had to admit. More like a challenge, really. Nothing she couldn't handle with a few more sessions of therapy.


At 7:30am, Harley jumped out of bed, thanks to her overly loud alarm clock. She took a quick shower, put on a light makeup, tied her up in a bun, put on a pencil skirt, a white-collar shirt and a pair of small-heeled black shoes, grabbed her papers and her coat and marched to the address. On her way there, she kept repeating in her mind everything she studied the night before, especially the made-up parts.

She stood in front of the building, analyzing it for a while, before making her way in. Once inside, Harley walked towards the receptionist. She was a nice looking young girl, with short blonde hair, a few freckles and brown eyes. Harley studied her for a minute before starting to talk. "Hi, my name is Claire Hogue, I have a job interview with doctor…" Harley pulled the little note she made from inside her pocket. "Callaway?"

"Just a moment." The receptionist opened her appointment book, searching Harley's name. "Oh, here it is. Interview, 9am, Claire Hogue. Follow me, please. Diana, could you take over for me, it'll be just a minute." The receptionist called another woman who was standing by the counter. "I'm Sarah, by the way. I hope you like it here, if you get the job." The receptionist said, with a smile in her face. Harley simply nodded and smiled back. She was a bit too nervous to start socializing, and she was still repeating the documents in her mind, not even looking at her surroundings.

Sarah led them to a small room, with a white couch and a small coffee table with a few magazines on top. "You can wait here; Dr. Callaway will be right with you. Feel free to read a magazine while you wait. See you later, Miss Hogue. Good luck!" Sarah said, leaving the room. Harley sat at the white couch, directly in front of the door of Dr. Callaway's office.

Instead of the magazines, she read over and over all of her notes and tried to keep calm. After a few minutes, the door opened, revealing a peaceful-looking man. He was tall, extremely thin, had glasses on that looked bigger than his face, and the little bit of hair he still had was slightly grey. "Miss Claire Hogue, right?" Harley nodded. "Please, come in." He welcomed her with a large smile. Seemed people were very friendly at that place.

"Please, take a sit." He pointed at the chair in front of his desk. "So, now it's your time to talk, Miss Hogue." Dr. Callaway said as he took a sit in his chair, still smiling at her.

"Well…" Harley could feel her hands sweating. "I always loved working with elderly people. I always seemed to get along with them, you know?"

"Yes, they are fascinating people. You can always learn from them."

"Sure. Of course, during my previous residences I haven't really spent much time with elderly people. I was in charge of group therapy sessions with adults and teenagers who were going through traumas and unsolved business in their lives." Harley had thought long and hard about the made-up parts and the little show she would give the doctor.

"Oh, that must have been quite intense. And I might say, I was very impressed with you resume. You have high recommendations from the New York hospital you worked in last year. Naturally, we called there and they only had good things to say about you."

Of course, Fury faked every bit of information he could get his hands on to help Harley get that job. She couldn't help but smile. "Oh, thank you! I brought my resume just in case you haven't been able to receive it." She pulled the paper from the case. "Well, I'll leave it here if you ever need a copy."

"A prevented lady, that's always a good sign. But tell me, you said you worked with group therapy sessions before, correct?" Harley nodded. "Well, here we don't do that very often, but if we ever need it, it'll be good to have someone with that background experience. While you're working here, you'll mainly focus on your patient, so it'll be easier to manage. We don't have many elderlies here. The most part here are women. I hope that won't be a problem for you?" The doctor asked, apprehensive.

"No, not at all. I think the bonding part between doctor and patient is very important." She cringed after that statement, but kept her smile.

"Well, that's great to hear, Miss Hogue! To be honest, by reading you resume and searching for your references, I think I would end up hiring you either way. I think that's it, then. Do you have any questions?"

"Wow, that easy?" Harley though, the voice in her head still had the old Brooklyn spice. "No, I think it's all very clear. I'm really looking forward to start!"

"Splendid! I'll see you on Monday, then. Sarah will send you the files you'll need, the schedules and of course, the most important, the name of your patient. You'll have plenty of time until Monday to study everything. I hope you like it here!" The doctor stood, reaching out to Harley for a handshake and led her out of the room, looking as happy as he could be. Harley walked towards the exit, giving Sarah a short smile as she passed by the counter. "What'a great start, Fruitcake!"


Harley was lying on the couch watching a Hannibal episode when she heard someone knocking on the door. She peeked through the eye hole to see Natasha standing with her arms crossed, waiting for Harley to welcome her inside.

"Hey Red!" Harley greeted her.

"Hi Harl." Natasha gave her a smirk and handed her yet another case filled with papers. Natasha, apart from Fury and her doctors, was the only one who knew Harley's identity and all the horrors of her past. She was also one of the few she could actually relate to, since Natasha too had a dark background. They were on the same boat, trying to move on with their lives, despite the terrible things they've done in the past. "How can you watch that?" She asked staring at the television.

"It has great looking people and even greater looking food. That's how." Harley said, not taking her eyes away from the file. Around Natasha, she felt free to use her Brooklyn accent as she pleased.

"You do realize the food is people, right?" Natasha sat in the couch, still looking a bit disgusted at the television.

"What's this? I already have a ton of homework; I can't stand any more paperwork!" Harley whined as she held up the case.

"Just some random names Nick wants you to memorize. He didn't gave me any details, you know how he's like. Maybe there are instructions inside, who knows?" Natasha yawned.

"Long day, Red?" Harley teased.

"I wish. I miss a real mission, with kicks to the face and everything! All I've been doing lately includes a computer and a hacking device. I'm a Level 6 doing a Level 1 job." Natasha was clearly bored.

"Poor thing." Harley thought. Sometimes, Natasha reminded Harley of her old friend Ivy. They were both powerful, deadly and seductive, not to mention their hair color. It was comforting calling Natasha "Red", that way Harley could still keep a tiny bit of Ivy inside of her new complicated life. Sometimes she wondered what Ivy was up to, if she really believed in Harley's fate; if Pam suffered as much as she did with her own "death".

"Hey, did you hear me?" Natasha's voice suddenly echoed in Harley's ears.

"Huh? Sorry Red, I went braindead for a sec. What did ya say?"

"I asked you if Fury already gave you a preview for any missions. You've been stationery for eight months now." Natasha had a worried tone to her voice.

"No. I think he just wants to keep me under surveillance." She didn't really felt like telling Nat about her new job at the nursing home. Although they were "friends", they didn't had the need or the habit to share everything. Especially now being a part of this whole secret services business. "Sometimes it feels like he didn't really recruited me, it's more like he's just… trying to keep me alive." Harley stopped for a moment, a bit touched by the thought.

"Alright, this is getting a little too emotional for my taste." Natasha said, standing up from the couch. "Anyway, I gotta go. You're not the only one with tons of homework needing to be done. See you soon, Harl. Make sure to stop by my "office" on your next trip to SHIELD." She gave Harley a hug and head up for the door.

"That might take a while Red, but I'll do my best!" Harley shouted as Natasha closed the door.

Harley opened the case and read the small note clipped to the first page. "Just some names for you to memorize in case of trouble. I'm not paranoid, just ahead of the curve. N.J.F." Harley couldn't help but laugh at the last sentence. Apparently, those were names of potential candidates of becoming her patients, and although she didn't had to worry about little ladies or gentlemen who were now over their 80 years old, their families might recognize her and screw everything up. Gathering the papers and turning the TV off, Harley marched to her room, to what was looking like another long night of names memorization.


Harley opened her e-mail the next morning to find the coordinates that Sarah sent her. She was dying to see whom she would be treating at the clinic, especially since she had the names fresh in her memory. Harley skipped the schedules and medications instructions to find what she was looking for: "Margaret Carter." She looked at the photo of the smiling 92-year-old woman. She had a long grey hair and her face was wrinkled like creased paper, her eyes were dark brown and she had perfect looking teeth. Harley found herself smiling back at the picture; something about that old lady was very interesting. She just didn't know how much yet.